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LOURELL 



THE INDIAN MAID 



BY 



JOHN MILBURN HARDING 



LORAIN. OHIO: 

DkVeny & McCahon 






Copyright, 1916, 
by John M. Harding. 



I 



1^ 



CI.A453105 






CONTENTS 
Historical Notes, Names, and Characters, 9 

THE STORY: 

Introduction, - - - - 13 

Part The First, 

The Capture, - - - 17 

Part The Second, 

The Massacre, - - - 49 

Part The Third, 

The Exile, - - - 75 

Part The Fourth, 

The Return, - - - - 97 

ILLUSTRATIONS: 

Zeisberger Preaching to^the Indians, Frontispiece ^ 

Indian Monument, Opposite Part II. ^ 
Crawford's Monument, " " III.c< 

Old Cemetery, " " IV. 



HISTORICAL NOTES 

The history of the planting of civilization in 
the Northwest Territory teems with thrilling ad- 
venture. Before white men sought to establish 
permanent homes in that region, many of the 
native savages were converted to Christianity 
through the tireless efforts of brave missionaries, 
Catholic and Protestant. To some degree this 
story follows the activities of Moravian mission- 
aries. In Europe the Moravian church was estab- 
lished in Moravia and Bohemia, and its mission- 
aries had success among many savage peoples, 
notably the Delaware Indians of eastern Penn- 
sylvania and the Ohio country. 

In 1770, the savage Delawares living in the 
valley of the Muskingum Piiver, through their 
chief Netawatwes, invited the Moravian mis- 
sionaries and their Indian converts to come from 
Pennsylvania to the valley of the Tuscarawas 
branch of the Muskingum River. To escape the 
dangers to which the missionaries and converts 
were exposed on account of the bitter feeling 
between the French in Canada and the English 
in the Colonies, the invitation was accepted; and, 
in 1772, Schoenbrunn, (German for Beautiful 
Spring), Gnadenhutten, (Tents of Grace, men- 
tioned by Longfellow in Evangeline), and Salem, 
mission villages, were founded in the valley of 
the Tuscarawas, then called the Muskingum. 
For nine years the inhabitants of those villages 
enjoyed peace and prosperity. Each village had 
a house of worship and a school. The church 
at Schoenbrunn, though large enough to acconj- 



10 



inodate five hundred hearers, was frequently 
found to be too small. 

For the government of the villages written 
ordinances, still in existence, were adopted. One 
of them provided for the entertainment of all 
travelers without any charge. This hospitable 
rule led indirectly to the destruction of the vil- 
lages, which, it will be noticed, were situated 
about midway between Fort Pitt, (Pittsburgh), 
and Fort Detroit, (Detroit). As the Revolution 
I)rogressed, the British at the latter place with 
their Indian allies came to look upon the mis- 
sion villages as Colonial out-posts. At the re- 
quest of the Colonial Military Authorities, mis- 
sionary John Heckewelder rode horseback from 
Fort Pitt to Coshocton, Ohio, to carry, in the 
spring of 1778, the news of Burgone's surrender, 
and peace messages from Colonies to the savage 
Indians of the Northwest. During the preceding 
w^inter renegades and deserters from the Ameri- 
can Army had fired all the savages by telling 
them that Washington had been captured by the 
British, and that the remaining Colonists were 
coming westward to take away the Indians' 
lands. Through the efforts of Heckewelder an 
army of several thousand warriors assembled, 
ready to fight the Colonists, was disbanded and 
peace maintained. On the other hand the Colon- 
ial frontiersmen came to look upon the mission 
towns as resting places where maurading bands 
of savages, on murdering trips to and from the 
unprotected settlements, were fed and enter- 
tained. 

The story touches on the first town, the first 
church, the first school, and the first burial 



11 



ground of civilized man in Ohio; the first fort, 
Fort Laurens, built in the Northwest territory by 
the Colonial Government, and the first armed ex- 
pedition sent into the region by Colonial au- 
thority. The story also follows, to some degree, 
the issues of the Revolution in the Northwest. 

CHARACTERS 
Lourell, (pronounced Loo-rell, with accent on 
last syllable), Jacob Senseman, her lover, Joe the 
hunter, and the minor characters, and the part 
each takes are imaginative. All the other char- 
acters, white and Indian, are historic, and, in 
writing the parts of each, diligent effort has been 
made to follow authentic history. 

LOCAL NAMES USED IN THE STORY 

"Midway Towns" or "Middle-way Towns," was 
the name applied to the Mission settlements on 
the Tuscarawas. "Captives' Town" was the place 
of settlement of the missionaries and converts on 
the Sandusky River during captivity. The mis- 
sionaries called the converted Indians "Brown 
Brethren," while the savage Indians frequently 
spoke of the frontiersmen as "Long Knives." 

Only three of the many intrepid Moravian 
Missionaries are named in the story: 

David Zeisberger, born April 11, 1721, in Aus- 
trian Moravia, died November 17, 1808, is buried 
at Goshen, Ohio. He spent over sixty years as a 
missionary among the Indians of North America. 

William Edwards died in 1801, and lies buried 
by the side of Zeisberger. 



1^ 

John Heckewelder, born at Bedford, England, 
March 12, 1743, died at Bethlehem, Pa., January 
21, 1823. He not only spent long years as a mis- 
sionary, but often served the Government of the 
United States in various capacities. 

Some of the missionaries and their faithful 
"Brown Brethren" remained at the Goshen Mis- 
sion till the year 1824, when the title to their 
three tracts of land was receded to Congress for 
a money consideration,, after which they moved 
to Canada. In 1838-9, they and their posterity 
settled in Kansas. Their tribe, numbering about 
one thousand souls, furnished over one hundred 
and eighty soldiers for the Union Army during 
the Civil War. Most of their descendents now 
live in Oklahoma. 

It was some seventeen years after the massacre 
of the ninety-six Christian Indians at Gnaden- 
hutten, until the return of the missionaries and 
their converts to the valley of the Tuscarawas 
to found Goshen. The bones of the martyrs were 
carefully gathered and buried, near the present 
site of the monument. The old cemetery at 
Goshen contains many marked graves of de- 
parted Indians. 

Until the removal of the tribe to the far west 
made the trip too long, some of them returned 
with the repeating years to the valley of the 
Tuscarawas to care for the graves of their an- 
cestors and to ponder over the wrongs they had 
suffered. 



13 

INTRODUCTION 

Flows the Tuscarawas onward 

Past wide fields of fertile land; 
On its banks, and still unnumbered, 

Sycamore and elm trees stand; 
Farms and gardens greet the morning. 

Where primeval forest rang, 
Where the Red Man chased the wild deer, 

And his crude songs idly sang; 
Happy homes by thousands numbered 

Dot this valley up and down — 
Homes are they of people having 

Wealth and wisdom of renow^n; 
Hamlets, towns, and smoking cities 

Rear high spires and flaming towers; 
And instead of howling pack wolves 

Locomotives pierce the hours 
Through the daytime and the nighttime 

With each shrill and screaming blast; 
Through such changes has the valley 

In few generations passed. 

Still the peaceful Tuscarawas 
Mirrors sun and moon and star; 

Still the broad, alluvial lowlands 
Stretch to rolling hills afar; 

Still, at times, an oar or paddle 
Dips beneath the surface blue; 



u 



Still the swallows skim the wave-crests, 

As, years past, the swallows flew : 
But, at noon, no antlered monarch 

Seeks the waves his thirst to slake; 
And no bear with awkward motion 

Travels through the weedy brake; 
Here no Indian lover loiters 

With the maiden of his choice, 
As of old, along the river, 

Speaking in a lover's voice. 
Missionaries, Christian Indians 

Of Moravian belief. 
With their homes and fields and gardens, 

All have perished, died of grief. 

Ye w^ho seek for human goodness, 

And have friends beloved and dear, 
Ye who have a heart's true passion, 

And can smile or shed a tear. 
Listen, ye adopted people 

Where the native race did fail. 
List to this pathetic story. 

This Moravian Indian tale. 



PART THE FIRST 



THE CAPTURE 



THE CAPTURE 17 



I. 



In the Tuscarawas valley, 

Seventeen and eighty-one, 
Far from settlement and city, 

Distant, quiet, and alone, 
Lay the fruitful Indian Mission 

Town, Gnadenhutten fair. 
Kissed by sunlight's purest splendor, 

Bathed in balmy forest air. 
By the village flowed the river. 

Called of old Muskingum blue, 
Which across its placid waters 

Bridge nor viaduct then knew. 
Wide and broad the tasseled cornfields 

Bustled in each passing breeze; 
And the fruit of peach and apple 

Bipened on the orchard trees; 
Cattle slowly o'er the pastures 

Fed upon the tender grass, 
While their glossy sides reflected 

Morning's sunlight as a glass; 
Horses, hogs, and sheep, and cattle. 

Cellars full, and bins of wheat. 
And the song of reel and shuttle 

Spake of living there complete. 



18 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

"Tents of Grace," our tragic village, 

Was a garden in a waste; 
Wide and straight its streets and alleys, 

Cleanly kept with frugal taste; 
Stone foundations had the houses, 

Built on early settlers' plan, — 
Logs and chinking, sticks and daubing. 

Shingle roof the whole to span. 
Near the center of the village 

Stood the church with steepled tower, 
Where the bell in calm vibrations 

Tolled each evening's twilight hour; 
And its mellow notes resounding 

Rang each Sabbath morn's return 
Of the sacred hour of teaching. 

Whence the heathen all could learn 
How, throughout the Bethl'hem valley, 

People told one early morn. 
In the manger of a stable 

Had a Savior, Christ, been born. 
Near the church of simple structure 

Stood the "Mission House" and school, 
Snugly nestled in the shadows 

Of the giant elm trees cool. 
There alike the Christian Indians 

And their children learned to read 
Both the Delaware and German 

Tongues with acc'racy and speed. 
There the acolytes and teachers 

Trained and taught each forest child, 



THE CAPTURE 19 

While the Mission Council governed 
All with justice, tempered, mild. 

As the August sun was sinking 

O'er the woodlands to the west 
Of that peaceful, happy village 

On the fertile valley's breast, 
Many workmen from their labors 

Came to homes with hearts all light. 
Glossy kine had freed their udders. 

And the maids, e'er falling night. 
Stored the basins in the cellars 

With the milk of yellow glow% 
While the rolls of cheese and butter 

Made complete the luscious show. 
Peacefully the men and women 

Talked in homes and on the street; 
Children, plump and healthy, happy. 

Ran and gamboled wath limbs fleet; 
Lovers wandered out the roadways 

Leading toward the other towns, — 
Schoenbrunn, Salem, Gnadenhutten, 

Marked Moravian Missions' bounds; 
And upon the rippling river 

In each light canoe and boat. 
In the lull of evening's twilight, 

Happy ones did row or float; 
Here and there low, plaintive music, 

Wafted on the evening breeze 
From the happy Indian voices. 

Rose among the bow'rs and trees. 



20 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

II. 

Sweet Lourell, the fairest daughter 

Of the Tuscarawas town. 
In a light canoe of birch bark 

With the current floated down; 
Willows dipped their sedgy branches; 

Nodded every shaggy tree; 
Birds among the leafy branches 

Chirped a welcome; and the bee, 
On its homeward errand speeding. 

Seemed to slacken its fierce pace 
When the sunbeams through the branches 

Shone upon her lovely face. 
On the seat a robe of bear skin. 

Flung in loose yet artful way. 
Looked a throne upon the waters 

Where a dusky queen held sway. 
In her hands the shining paddle 

Dipped in silence 'neath the blue 
Surface of the Tuscarawas, 

Guiding on the light canoe. 
Rich black hair in graceful volume 

Fell in wave-folds down her back. 
And her brown eyes scanned the shore-line 

For her lover Jacob's track. 
Jacob Senseman, her lover, 

Waited silently and lone 
On a fallen tree whose body 

Was with willows overgrown. 



THE CAPTURE 21 

Now he hails the floating craftsmaid; 

Now she dips the paddle deep; 
Now the light canoe is gliding 

Toward the shore in graceful sweep; 
Now within the bow she's sitting; 

He is standing in the stern; 
Lightly glide the boat and lovers, 

At his steady stroke and firm. 

We will not their conversation 

Give in just each loving word, 
For so softly was it uttered 

That no list'ner could have heard. 
Yet, he told her how the cottage 

Home, almost completed, stood 
Waiting early occupation; 

How the garden, full a rood, 
Had been fenced around with palings; 

How within that little home 
They would live in joy together 

Through the happy years to come. 
She, in all her maiden meekness, 

Listened to each manly word, — 
Listened, for they were the sweetest 

That her ears had ever heard. 
Yes, the thought to have her own home, 

To a maid of eighteen years, 
Thrills her with the hopes of woman, 

Purges mind and heart of fears. 



22 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

Child she was of Netawatwes, 

Sachem of the Del'ware race. 
Though a child of savage monarch, 

Christian faith did she embrace 
Ere she reached the age of woman, 

And her friends and forest home 
Left to join the Christian Missions, 

There a teacher to become. 
Under guidance of Zeisberger 

She had labored long and well, 
Teaching Delawares their language 

How to write and read and spell. 
And in litanies and prayer songs 

Of the Church's solemn rite 
She the little ones instructed 

At each dawn and each twilight. 
Jacob, brawny, strong, athletic. 

Just past twenty summers old, 
Was the son of Chief Glikkikan, 

Once a warrior fierce and bold. 
In the seed time or the harvest 

Jacob was the foremost one. 
Working with his hands most willing 

From the morn till set of sun; 
He was born beyond the Mountains 

Near the Susquehanna's wave, 
Where no evergreen or headstone 

Marks his mother's silent grave; 
He the Delaware and German 

And the English, too, could read. 
And a sin-sick soul of sorrow 

To the Savior's cross could lead. 



THE CAPTURE 23 

III. 

Unawares the happy couple 

Drifted in a wide lagoon, 
Where the dying sunlight glistened 

Welcome to the half full moon. 
Then, as oft it is with lovers, 

Came a silent, thoughtful pause. 
During which their souls drew nearer. 

Consonant with Nature's laws. 
Aimlessly the musing lovers 

Drifted noiselessly along. 
Till upon the evening silence 

Rose glad voices joined in song; 
For two pairs of Indian lovers 

In a spacious, light canoe 
Long had waited for the couple. 

Then in silence near them drew. 
They Lourell and Jacob welcomed 

With this love song, ev'ry part. 
Sung to mild, sweet, plaintive music. 

Voiced the thoughts in Jacob's heart. 

SONG 

"When the suiisetting glow 

Shoots its arrows of light 
'Mong the boughs of the tall forest trees, 

And its gleaming is spread 
O'er the waters all bright, 

And the wind is a soft, gentle breeze^ 
Oh, it's then let me hie 

To the low river's shore, 



24 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

With Lourell at my side ever true, 
The smooth waves to glide o'er, 
As we've oft done before, 

While we ride in the birch bark canoe. 
Sailing in the light canoe. 
O'er the rippling waters blue. 
We will rock and ride 
With the river's tide, — 
Sailing in the light canoe. 
"As we glide o'er the waves. 

Like a bird on the wing, 
When the cares of the day are all o'er , 

In her sweet, gentle voice 
My Lourell, she will sing, 

And low echoes resound from the shore. 
Soon the stars, one by one. 

Through the dome of the skies. 
Slyly peep on the scene of our love, 

But the sparkle I see 
In her brown laughing eyes 

Charms me more than the stars from above. 
Sailing in the light canoe 
O'er the rippling waters blue, 
We will rock and ride 
With the river's tide, — 
Sailing in the light canoe. 

"When the summer is gone, 

And the meadows turn gray 
And the leaves shine like gold in the sun, 

With Lourell I will go 
At the close of some day 

To the church where we shall be made one. 
Then the river of life, 

WMth its ebb and its flow. 
We will sail in our love-bark as true. 

With a cargo of joy 



THE CAPTURE 25 

As the days come and go, 

As we sail in our birch bark canoe. 
Sailing in the light canoe 
O'er the rippling waters blue, 
We will rock and ride 
With the river's tide, — - 
Sailing in the light canoe." 

IV. 

As the last sweet accents faintly 

Echoed on the dewy breeze, 
Footsteps broke the evening silence, 

Hast'ning 'mong the forest trees. 
As the branches spread above them 

On the high bank from the town, 
'Peared the face of Joe, the hunter, 

Wearing *twixt a smile and frown. 
He looked anxious and excited. 

And each boating party cried: 
"What is wrong? Why so excited?" 

Then the hunter, true and tried, 
Told that Elliott, the captain 

Of the British Detroit men, 
Half King, Pipe and many warriors 

Were at Salem camping then: 
That, beneath the cross of St. George, 

They authority possessed 
To compel removal of the 

Christians to the far northwest. 
Paled at once the maidens' faces 

And each young man's brow knit stern, 
As with all when glad occasions 

Suddenly to sadness turn. 



26 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

Then a young man in the large boat 

Was the first tlie spell to break. 
And the other men and maidens 

Listened while he calmly spake: 
"Joe, the faithful hunter," said he, 

"Is our trusted friend and tried, 
And I fear the savage warriors 

With the British have allied 
And are ready for the war-path 

'Gainst the colonies' frontier. 
The success of such a movement 

Deem they doubtful with us here 
Mid-way 'tween Detroit and Fort Pitt. 

Renegades, I surely know. 
Have advised that all our people 

From these villages should go. 
Just because our doors are open 

To all men, each renegade 
Tells the British we are giving 

Colonists much secret aid. 
Sad 'twill be, if all this valley. 

And our homes so long enjoyed. 
And our churches, orchards, cattle. 

In the war shall be destroyed." 
Spake another: "While we're talking 

Time is lost with nothing done : 
Let us hie to bear the message 

Of this danger to the town." 
Dipped the oars and swift the smaller 

Of the boats swept toward the land, 



THE CAPTURE 27 

And the agile bound of Jacob 

Placed him on the river's strand. 
Then the voice of Joe, the hunter. 

Calling from the farther shore 
To be rowed across the waters. 

Caught their ears. The dripping oar 
Quickly grasped, Lourell unaided 

Crossed lagoon and river's wave 
To the shore where man and rifle 

Waited for the aid she gave. 
As the light boat dipped and started 

With the hunter's force and weight. 
Brambles parted in two places, 

And six warriors, tall and straight. 
Armed and painted for the war-path, 

In the Shawnee language spake: 
"Brothers, we harm not your people; 

Come with us before too late: 
Gen'ral Washington's defeated; 

And our father, the great King, 
Offers peace to you at Detroit. 

'Tis his message we now bring." 
Jacob calmly, sternly, answered: 

"Chief, I speak in plain Shawnee 
That you fail not understanding 

The reply we have for thee. 
Artful is thy tongue at speaking; 

Treach'rous are thy heart and hand; 
Go; we care not for the offer 

Of the King of Britain's land." 



28 LOURELL, TttE INDIAN MAID 

Wily warriors, somewhat daunted 
At the plainness of their tongue, 

Took with sullen looks the answer 
Of disdain their message wrung. 



At the conversation's closing 

A wild Monsey Chieftain's son, 
Eager for a fame at killing, 

Raised, and then discharged a gun 
At the hunter. As the water 

Near Lourell splashed into spray, 
Other shots plunged through the boat's side 

Where her right hand gently lay. 
Consternation seized the maiden; 

Anger filled her lover's breast; 
And the other Indian warriors 

Loud rebukes at once addressed 
To the thoughtless, youthful savage, 

For his rash, impatient deed. 
Then with silence, stealth, but quickly, 

In the mesh of waving reed, 
Disappeared each painted warrior; 

Then the frightened maid Lourell 
Bounded from the falt'ring water 

Eager her escape to telL 
Young men, maidens, and the hunter 

Hastened to the village where 



THE CAPTURE 29 

They, arriving, found the people 
Filled with anxious, fearful care; 

For the soldiers and the warriors 
Just outside the village bound 

Were encamped, and scouts were lurkin;^ 
In the country all around. 



V. 

Mellow, doleful, from the belfry 

Called the Mission Church's bell. 
And the congregation gathered. 

Hoping all might yet be well. 
Zeisberger, the brave, the pious. 

Waved for silence his right hand. 
And the congregation, breathless. 

Waited his revered command. 
"Satan, surely," said he slowly, 

"Works each subtle, wicked plan 
To destroy God's every effort 

For the betterment of man. 
Brethren, fear not, neither tremble: 

He, who Israel led of old. 
Still wall care for us. His blessings 

Follow all. Be brave, be bold; 
Love thy enemies and bless those 

That despitefully you treat. 
Jesus blest his crucifiers. 

Can we our destroyers meet 



30 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

With the knowledge that our Savior 

Still sits on the mercy seat? 
God Almighty, bless and keep us, 

Guide and guard our actions when 
Men despoil and Satan ruins. 

Keep us sinless, Lord, Amen." 

Sadly, soon the congregation 

Homeward turned for thought and rest, 
While the campfires of the soldiers 

Lighted up the dark'ning west. 
Lingered near the sacred altar 

Jacob and Lourell awhile 
To receive from loved Zeisberger 

Helpful word and loving smile. 
Zeisberger with the young couple 

Slowly walked to Lourell's home, 
Talking sadly of the future 

And the probable outcome. 

At the gate the pious preacher 

Asked a blessing on the twain. 
Then, the girl safe in her own home, 

Back toward the church again 
Walked the men. Their conversation 

Lasted far into the night, 
Ere they parted both sad-hearted 

At the Mission's awful plight. 



THE CAPTURE ^1 

VI. 

In the early beams of sunlight 

On the morning of next day, 
Walking toward the Mission village, 

Single file, in proud array. 
Six athletic warrior chieftains 

And some soldiers of the King 
Came to meet the Missionaries, 

And this message to them bring: 
Half King: "Christian men and women, 

White or brown, we come to you 
As your friends and benefactors. 

All we say to you is true. 
We beseech you, leave this valley. 

Ere the Long Knives' thirst for blood 
Causes murder of your converts. 

And destroys your work of good. 
Truthful, fair and fully fertile 

Are Sandusky River's plains. 
They are yours. Come, bring your people 

Where no fear of Whites remains." 

Zeisberger, with full composure, 

Was the Christian first to speak: 
"We are harmless; we are neutral; 

Blood nor plunder do we seek. 
Savage, whether White or Indian, 

Christian, whether white or red. 
All are welcome to our victuals. 

All are welcome to a bed, 



32 LOURELL. THE INDIAN MAID 

When affairs of life may call them 

To our towns by night or day. 
Go; we thank you for your offer. 

But 'tis better that we stay." 
Edwards, faithful Christian worker, 

Added : "We dwell now in peace 
With the Colonists and Britons; 

From your mandate give release. 
Leave us that we may continue 

Where success our efforts crowns; 
Leave us and no treach'rous act shall 

Come to you from "Mission Towns." 

Jacob spake in Indian language, 

(Which I willingly translate) : 
"Mischief somewhere has been active; 

Lies and frauds and wrongs of late 
Have been told and done on purpose 

To destroy our homes and wealth. 
Briton, colonist, and savage 

Are deceived by fraud and stealth 
Of some w^hite men, worse than Indians, 

Living each a dual life, 
Bearing tales 'tween fort and frontier 

Falsely to prolong the strife. 
Go; and true as eastern sunrise, 

True as Tuscarawas' blue. 
True as is Almighty's promise. 

Naught from us shall hap to you." 



THE CAPTURE 33 

Further spake he: "Though a young man, 

One suggestion let me add: 
Let us all think o'er this question — 

Weigh the good and weigh the bad. 
We are heavy now in substance. 

Look! Our stock and household goods, 
Corn, three hundred acres rip'ning. 

And our garnered grain and foods, 
Are too much to think of moving 

On the notice of a day. 
Wait to talk the matter over; 

Grant a busy, short delay." 
Half King: "We are here in friendship, 

And a fortnight will sojourn 
For an answer to the message. 

Before starting to return." 

VIL 

Brightly burned the tallow candles 

On a mild September eve 
In the cheerful home of Shebosh 

Where his good wife strove to weave 
Cloth for winter-wearing garments. 

In the same room sat Lourell 
With some little Indian children 

Eager, each, to learn to spell 
And to read. Their lessons finished. 

They in hoods and capes homespun, 



34 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 



With the mothers who were waiting, 

Bade good night and started home. 
Children's books and charts were gathered 

By Lourell to place away. 
When a light rap on the front door 

Caused the Indian host to say: 
"Come; the house of Shebosh always 

Open will be found to all 
Seeking sleep, food, or instruction 

Of the Savior." At the call, 
Zeisberger and Jacob entered 

Through the wide, unbolted door. 
Chairs were ofifered and accepted. 

A short silence followed; for. 
Though a message was expected, 

All reluctant were to hear 
It announced, lest news unwelcome 

Be in store for ev'ry ear. 
Silently the stalwart lover 

And the preacher, each adored. 
Waited as for an inquiry. 

Earnestly Lourell implored 
That the two speak plain and fully 

Of the outlook, good or bad. 
For the future of the Missions, 

If such knowledge either had, 



THE CAPTURE 35 

Calmly, solemnly, Zeisberger 

Told how still the warriors felt 
Toward the Missions and the converts. 

Then in prayer all present knelt. 
Worship over, all the children 

Of the household sought the bed, 
After which the men and women 

Talked, while by a swift hour sped. 
Suddenly, with ling'ring echoes. 

Rang the savage war-whoop cry. 
As outstanding barns and houses. 

Burning, lit the autumn sky. 
From the rest Lourell and Jacob 

Hastened, e'er the others thought. 
By a path across the out-lots 

To their new home they were brought, 
Which they entered in the darkness. 

And in silence held their breath. 
For the scalp-yell of the Indians 

Seemed to speak of certain death. 
To the church came Missionaries, 

Helpers, Christians, full a score, 
Seeking cause for so much arson 

And such savage, wild uproar. 
From the Shebosh home Zeisberger 

Hastened, followed by the host, 
Only to behold for certain 

That the Missions' hopes were lost. 
Loud above the savage clamor 

Rang a Briton's clear command: 
"Capture ev'ry Missionary, 

And secure them, foot and hand." 



36 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAl£) 



Down the street in broken order 

Hurried British soldiers ten. 
Closely followed by some warriors. 

Bent on tearing scalps from men 
Ere a public trial be given. 

And without resisting move 
Chains were placed upon Zeisberger 

While he uttered prayers of love. 



Then the soldiers, under orders, 

Heckewelder, Edwards, bound 
Hand and foot, and left all lying 

Helplessly upon the ground, 
Guarded by a score of warriors. 

When the soldiers passed from sight, 
Savage thirst for blood and torture 

Overcame all thoughts of right; 
And the helpless, bounden pris'ners 

Each in turn the object was 
Of the insults, threats and torments 

Common to the savage laws; 
And from off each bruised and bleeding 

Body all the clothes were torn. 
By the greedy captors that they 

Might express their deepest scorn. 



THE CAPTURE 37 

Torches made of clustered fagots 
Soon were lighted, and the mob 

Started with the unresisting 
Captives, pious men of God, 

VIII. 
By a route both safe and secret 

Jacob and Lourell then hied 
To the British camp at Salem, 

Ere the captives might be tried. 
In the thickly clustered bushes 

By the river's eastern side 
Jacob knew a boat was hidden, 

Which the river's waves would ride 
With his weight and Lourell's also. 

Soon the noiseless, little craft 
Was upon the darkened river 

With the village far to aft. 

Noiselessly with speed and caution, 

'Twixt the overhanging boughs. 
Rowed the lovers, while in whispers 

They renewed the lovers' vows. 
When the long four intervening 

Miles of river were passed o'er 
With the same good care and caution 

Jacob brought the craft ashore. 
To the Salem Mission village 

Hastened Jacob and Lourell, 



38 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

Where were found some Indian converts 

And some teachers, guarded well 
By a squad of British soldiers. 

Though no violence was done, 
All were kept within the village 

Under picket, sword and gun. 
Ere an hour, the bounden preachers 

Filed into the Salem camp. 
Shivering and sick and hungry, 

For the air was cold and damp. 
But the British Captain feeling 

Some remorse, an order gave 
That sufficient clothes be furnished 

To the captives, so to save 
Them such vile humiliation. 

On the morrow, guarded o'er. 
Into Salem other Missions' 

Congregations both did pour. 



IX. 

Days wore by and, though no converts' 

Hands were tied or limbs were bound, 
Still the pious, captive preachers 

To stakes driven in the ground 
Were kept tied. The savage customs. 

Bites, and laws in camp were kept; 
And the chanted scalp-song often 

Fell on ears that fain had slept. 



THE CAPTURE 39 

X. 

On the fifth day from the capture 

Elliott to the preachers came 
Saying: "On your earnest promise, 

Made by each in God's own name, 
That your converts will not longer 

Thwart our orders, the King's will, 
I will now bestow upon you 

Freedom for some days, until 
You and all your Indian converts 

Pack your goods and ready be 
For removal from this valley 

To the plains of Sandusky." 
Each one promised: "We are willing; 

And at once we will prepare 
For the change; we're fully trusting 

That God's blessing meet us there." 

When the converts heard that final 

Was the British Chief's command 
Much they murmured at the leaving 

Of their homes and fruitful land. 
After prayers and exhortations 

And new pledges made the Lord, 
Acquiesced the congregations 

With no further act or word 
Done or spoken 'gainst removal. 

In each mind this thought alone 
Urged decision : "Soon they'll free us. 

And in peace we'll come back home." 



40 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

On the ninth day of September 

Christians of the Missions three 
Gathered in the church at Salem; 

And, on reverent, bended knee, 
Each implored the God of Heaven 

Strength and guidance to bestow. 
Then the Reverend Heckewelder 

In a sad, sweet voice, but low, 
Preached a farewell, touching sermon 

On the love of God to man. 
Though encompassed round by soldiers, 

Still so well the discourse ran 
That in face of such disaster 

One poor soul who wore red skin 
Was baptized, received communion. 

Praised the Christ and turned from sin. 

XL 

Two days more, and at the sunrise 

All were ready, and the start 
Of the long, unhappy journey 

Was begun. A tithing part 
Of provisions and belongings 

On pack-horses, in canoes. 
Was attempted to be taken; 

And in homemade, leathern shoes 
Male and female, young and aged, 

Into forests wild, untrod. 
Marched, a band of Christian exiles, 

Singing praises unto God. 



THE CAPTURE 41 

Down the wide Muskingum River 

Aided by the current blue, 
Brawny men, the laden flat-boats. 

Hour by hour, the waters through 
Urged with vim, and under guidance 

Giv'n by Jacob, loud and bold, 
Till they reached the town Coshocton, 

Savage Delawares* stronghold. 
Here the boats were moored; and landed 

Sick, infirm, and nursing babe. 
While upon the leaking vessels. 

Men, repairs much needed, made. 
Then upon Walhonding*s waters, 

'Gainst the tide and each wave-crest, 
Moved the fleet and band in sadness. 

Toward the barren, bleak Northwest. 
Sultry day, and dewy night, winds 

Of autumnal equinox 
Lasted 'till the weary trav'lers 

Passed the White Eyes Town and Rocks. 
Then the winds blew strong and stronger 

'Till it seemed a surging gale 
In the trees and forest caverns 

Sang a requiem. Rain and hail, 
Thrown from angry clouds low hanging 

By the thunder's battle pow'r. 
Fell in torrents on the homeless; 

Darkness fell ere sunset hour. 
Blue, quick darts and zigzag flashes 

Of the lightnings through the sky, 



42 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAIt) 

Threat'ning death, caused men to shudder. 

Women murmur, children cry. 
'Neath a ledge of rock o'erhanging. 

Those on shore a camp had made. 
Ere the hast'ning, murky twilight 

Was replaced by night's deep shade. 
Craftsmen moored the boats with long lines 

To strong trees on either side 
Of the river, thus designing 

That the boats the floods might ride. 

Jacob and the other young men 

Large dry rolls of blankets brought 
For the beds. The weary children 

Soon in dreams their fears forgot; 
Mothers lulled their fretful babies; 

And the camp soon soundly slept, 
While around them fearless young men 

Through the night their vigils kept. 

Still the rain came down in torrents; 

Still the lightning cleft the sky; 
Still the winds among the forests 

Echoed thunders from on high. 
By the light the burning fagots 

Made about the wildwood there 
Jacob chopped and gathered firewood, — 

For the morrow did prepare. 
Constantly while he was working 

Was Lourell the first in mind; 
For somewhere was she then camping 

In the same storm, rain and wind. 



THE; CAPTURE 43 

Just across the rugged hilltop. 

Less than half a mile away, 
Were encamped the other pilgrims. 

Pack-horses around them lay. 
And around those stood some soldiers. 

Picketed with British skill. 
Farther out the Indian watchmen 

Scouted 'round the camp at will. 

On the morrow 'twas decided 

That a day and night's delay 
Be enjoyed by all the exiles — 

The first rest upon the way 
To the Northwest. Ere the evening. 

Messengers came to the camp 
And told how^ the pack-horse comp'ny 

Had progressed. Through forest damp, 
With the messengers returning, 

Jacob found his loved Lourell; 
And they spent two hours together 

While he earnestly did tell 
Her of all his plans for future 

Actions at the "Captives' Town" 
Of themselves and other Christians, 

Whether white or whether brown. 
Tlie next day, the storm abating. 

Both the camps were joined as one. 
And, thenceforth to Plains Sandusky, 

Heartsick, marched they sadly on. 



44 LOURfeLL, THE INDIAN MA16 



XII. 

Thence were hurried Missionaries 

To Detroit for trial, but they 
At a hearing were acquitted; 

And, at dawn the fol'wing day, 
Back they started through the wintry 

Storms to reach the exiled flock; 
Where was found a faith and suff'ring 

Like to that at Plymouth Rock. 
During all the dreary winter 

Jacob labored, faithful, well, 
To relieve from hunger's passion 

With his rifle; and Lourell 
Passed among the mothers gently 

At the Missionaries' call, 
Telling how the Beth'lem Savior 

Lived and suffered, died for all. 

Early came the springtime breezes, 

Melting snow from trace and trail. 
Bringing to these starving Christians' 

Minds that Tuscarawas' vale 
Held its acres, still ungarnered. 

Of the food-producing corn. 
At a meeting 'twas arranged that. 

On the coming second morn, 
One and half a hundred people 

To the valley should return; 



THE CAPTURE 45 

Gather food; and with pack-horses 

Make a speedy, safe return. 
Jacob and Lourell were chosen 

To accompany that band 
Back to Tuscaraw^as' valley. 

Back to their beloved land. 



^ 



L 






M\' 




WH 




9 



MONUMENT AT GNADENHUTTEN, OHIO 

It marks the spot of the massacre of ninety-six Christian 
Indians, March, 1782. 



PART THE SECOND 



THE MASSACRE 



THE MASSACRE 49 



I. 



Out on the far western frontier 

Where civilization then pressed 
'Gainst the dark, unbroken forest 

In hope of acquiring the West; 
Out near the colony's limits, 

Established and founded by Penn 
As an asylum forever 

For God-loving women and men; 
There in the autumn and winter 

That followed the foul banishment, 
Angered, provoked, and disheartened, 

The settlers their feelings gave vent; 
Planning the annihilation 

Of all of the "Middleway Towns," 
Hoping such act would secure them 

From murder, impris'nment,and wounds. 
Dreary and lonely and slowly 

The long winter days wore away 
In the rude forts where the women 

And children were all forced to stay. 

II. 

Joseph Vance, stern but kind-hearted. 
One eve at a mass meeting's close, 

Which had been held in his cabin, 

Spake: "Brethren and sisters, the woes 



50 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

Suffered a year now and over 

Demand our attention again. 
Springtime is coming upon us, 

Shall we once again plant in vain?" 
Rising the pale-faced young preacher, 

In touching and tender tones, told 
How he had dreamed while last sleeping 

A tribe his fiancee did hold 
Pris'ner in lone, smoky wigwam; 

Told how he beheld her sad eyes. 
Heard her prayers asking deliv'rance. 

And heard her most pitiful cries; 
How, in the dream, she was hopeful 

And held to her faith in her God. 
"Hush!" said a man by the window, 

And gave one significant nod. 
Moments passed by while the speechless. 

Sad-countenanced listeners stood 
Waiting in breathless excitement. 

Then out 'mong the stumps near the wood 
Broke into view in the clearing 

A band of some twenty-five men, 
Who hurried down o'er the hillside, 

Then turned toward the cabin again. 
Soon, with a wave of his right hand. 

The watcher relieved the dread still, 
Saying, "A number of white men 

Are hastening up the small hill." 

On they came, not even heeding 
The faithful dogs' howling and roar 



THE MASSACRE 51 

At the intrusion. Then halting, 

One knocked at the cabin's low door. 
Not was the latchstring protruded, 

But with a strong, muscular hand 
Vance raised the latch, the door opened, 

And thus did he speak to the band: 
"Whence and wherefore at this late hour 

Come you to mj^ cabin to-night?" 
Answered the foremost : "To tell you 

Of our neighbor's Indian fight. 
One and a half miles to nortlnvard 

Of Briceland's Crossroads near the wood. 
Lonely and all unprotected, 

His snug little cabin home stood. 
He on a trip to old Fort Pitt 

Was gone for a night and two days, 
During which came savage warriors 

And set to his house a fierce blaze. 
Wife and three children in terror 

The burning home all quickly fled 
Into the arms of the outlaws, 

And were to captivity led. 
When he returned there were traces 

Of struggles where children and wife 
Combatted vainly 'gainst capture, 

And fiercely for freedom and life. 
All of his goods have been plundered, 

All his live-stock has been killed, 
All of his family taken — 

With vengeance his bosom is filled." 



52 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

Loud from the men, who had thus far 

Stood silent, dire murmurs arose, 
Mob-like supporting each method 

Suggested to deal with such foes. 
Out from the cabin excited 

Came w^omen and children in dread, 
Eager to learn all the details 

And catch ev'ry word that was said. 
They, in the rudest of quarters. 

The winter had spent in the fort; 
Of such a springtime intrusion. 

They trembled to hear the report. 
Seeing the fear of the women, 

The full helplessness of each child. 
Men who had wives or had children 

As pris'ners detained b}^ the wild, 
Savage tribes west of the river, 

Grew frenzied and held not their ire. 
Unobserved some thoughtful young men 

Had set a large log heap afire. 
Close in the light of the new flames. 

Near Washington Township's stockade, 
Gathered the whole congregation. 

And many strong speeches were made. 
Urging a telling chastisement 

Be given each Indian clan. 
Motion was made and was carried 

By vote of each woman and man. 



THE MASSACRE S3 

On the next day, which was Sunday, 

They met at the cabin again, 
Praying all day without ceasing, 

The effort would not be in vain. 

III. 

Daylight was pushing the night-shades 

From out the cloud banks of the fog 
Hanging above the Ohio, 

When near to the wide Mingo bog 
Could have been seen a small number 

Of men, as the gray morning broke, 
List'ning with eager attention 

To words David Williamson spoke. 
Coming toward Mingo Bottoms, 

On horseback or straggling afoot, 
Singly, in squads, or in couples, 

And armed both to murder and loot. 
Men to an uncertain number, 

A hundred, perhaps sixty more, 
Gathered at will in disorder. 

Upon the Ohio's east shore. 
Crossing the river, they halted 

And waited till all were convened. 
Order was partly established, 

And Williamson, honored, esteemed 
For his past brave deeds of valor. 

And who was a colonel in rank. 
Was by the men chosen leader, 

Ere leaving the river's west bank. 



54 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 



Tuesday, the fifth of the third month, 

One tliousand sev'n hundred eight'-two, 
Straggling in haste and confusion, 

From civilization they drew, 
And took the trail, the Moravian, 

O'er hilltop, through swamp and through 
glen. 
To rob, to scalp and to murder 

All children, all women and men. 
Who, by the province of nature. 

Wore skin tinged, through unreckoned 
time. 
Red, from the smoke in the wigwam 

And life in the wild western clime. 
Many were boys, not yet twenty, 

Whose minds on adventure were bent; 
Many were men of matured years; 

And freely their aid some scouts lent; 
Also the pious young preacher 

When camped with the band on each 
night 
Talked of some Biblical warfare 

And prayed for direction aright. 
Ere the March sun had quite faded 

On Wednesday, Big Stillwater's wave 
Bore up the rafts of the footmen 

And sides of the horses did lave. 



THE MASSACRE 55 

Less than a mile farther westward 

They went into camp for the night, 
Waiting reports of the few scouts 

And waiting the coming of light. 
Supper was over when scout men 

Returning, deceitfully said: 
"From our long day's busy searching 

We think that the Christians have fled, 
And quite a band of the savage 

Are busily gathering corn 
In the large fields o'er the river. 

We think that at dawn of the morn 
Men should be sent to surround them, 

Secure their few arms through a ruse, 
Capture them all ere the nightfall, 

And kill all of them that refuse 
Quiet and peaceful surrender." 

When Williamson heard the report 
He called a vote. A few speeches 

Were made, but were pointed and short. 
Spake in tones solemn and tender 

The preacher, the young gospel man, 
Asking that mercy and kindness 

Be shown to each peaceable clan. 
Urged he again with true ardor. 

That women and children be spared; 
Also the men who were Christians. 

He talked full as strong as he dared; 
For there were none who believed the 

Reports of the scouts were untrue. 
While he exhorted, men singly 

To tents or to blankets withdrew 



56 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

For the night's sleep. Dying embers 
Their fitful, uncertain lights shed 

Soon over men who were sleeping 
As sound as though each were abed. 

IV. 

True to their long-practiced custom, 

The civil, red Christians awoke 
And were prepared for their labors 

The moment the new morning broke. 
Five days last past had the Christians 

Worked faithfully gathering food; 
And they had planned on next morning 

To start on the trail through the wood, 
Back to the plains of Sandusky 

With many sacks filled with the grain; 
Back to their friends who were starving. 

And back to the desolate Plain. 

During those five days of labor. 

Each evening the chapel bells rang, 
Calling the three congregations 

To worship. They prayed and they 
sang — 
Sang as they did the last summer — 

And worshiped the Lord without fear. 
Often the leaders exhorted 

And all were in happiest cheer. 
Of the small children in daytime 

Lourell and her helpers had care. 
Jacob had acted as captain 

To whom, without dignified air, 
All of the laborers reported, 

From each town at setting of sun, 



tHE MASSACRE 57 

How many sacks had been gathered, 

And how all the work had been done. 
Joe and two other sly hunters 

Each day from the neighboring wood 
Fm-nished abundance of wild game, 

So there was no wanting of food. 
Thus, on each day they were working. 

Care-free and removed from all fears. 
Could have been heard their glad voices 

Commingled with husking of ears. 

Fully an hour before breakfast 

Was eaten by Williamson's men 
Jacob and the other helpers 

Had planned a day's labor again. 
Three of the most stalwart young men 

To go to Schoenbrunn were detailed, 
Help and assistance to offer 

In work that the few there had failed 
Of a completion. And Jacob 

To join those at Salem made haste 
That the last day's preparation 

Be done. There was no time to waste; 
Yet, ere he left, at Lourell's house 

He tarried while swift moments flew; 
Vcws were renewed, and he kissed her. 

And bade her a lover's adieu. 
As they both thought, till tfie evening. 

To meet her at twilight again : 
Deeds of the day that was breaking 

Made hopes of that meeting in vain. 



58 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAlf) 

While the young men by the river 

Made haste for Schoenbrunn to depart. 
They three young women invited 

To join them; for Cupid's swift dart 
Often had sped in direction 

Of hearts fully fertile for love. 
In those young men and pure maidens — • 

Those maidens, each meek as a dove. 
So 'twas arranged, and the young men 

Found each of the maidens a seat 
In the large boat on the river. 

And then did a young woman greet 
Them with the hope that the journey 

And day be o'er spread with blue skies. 
Looking to landward the party 

Beheld Lourell's brown laughing eyes, 
There 'neath the boughs of a maple, 

As she, in the gray morning's dawn, 
Walked on the bank of the river, 

As graceful as ere did the fawn. 
As of one voice the whole party 

Insisted, till laughing Lourell 
Boarded the craft and was seated. 

In order the oars rose and fell. 
As the young men and the maidens 

And boat glided forth on their way, 
Over the blue Tuscarawas 

As noiseless as broke the new day. 
More than an hour spent in rowing 

Those young people that early morn. 
Ere they were landed at Schoenbrunn 

To help in the gath'ring of corn. 



THE MASSACRE 59 

V. 

Meanwhile the three wily hunters 

Out eastward had hastened alert, 
Anxious to kill e'en the young fawn 

Yet not an old bruin to hurt. 
Though they were true western hunters 

And prided in title as such, 
Unless the aim was one certain. 

The trigger would none of them touch. 
F.ach in a chosen direction 

Moved, careful, in quest of wild game. 
Joe, just by chance to a quiet. 

Sequestered and lonely spot came. 
Resting, his mind flashed in mem'ries 

To her whom he loved years agone 
Back at the New England homestead. 

Where often they wandered alone, 
Talking of love to each other, 

While only the moon saw and heard. 
Back to his eyes came her features. 

And back to his ears came each word 
Spoken by her whom he cherished. 

When youthful hopes, thrilling his breast, 
Caused him to think that a fortune 

A.nd home could be found in the West. 
Out of his hunting coat's pocket, 

A pocket not often disturbed. 
Took he a New England paper, 

From which, though the printing was 
blurred, 



60 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MA16 

Still he could read of a wedding. 

That marked a sad date in his life. 
Wherein his New England sweetheart 

Became a Bostonian's wife. 
Turning by chance the old paper, 

He saw on the back of it, then 
For the first time, and he read this, 

A poem from nobody's pen : 

POEM. 

"Half way down a rocky ledge, 

On a shelf of stone, 
Hanging o'er the water's edge, 

Had a wild flow'r grown. 

"On the summit of the cliff 

Stood a tourist true; 
Near a shelving shore his skiff 

Played on waters blue. 

"Rare the wild flow'rs in his hand; 

Yet, unpleased, his eye 
O'er the precipice still scanned 

Twixt the sea and sky. 

"Still he peered; and then he saw 

There a flower, lone, 
Clinging to an earthy flaw 

In the rugged stone. 

"At his feet he treasures threw; 

All his pow'rs of mind 
Set to work to frame anew 

Plans that flow'r to find. 



THE MASSACRE 61 

"Down the barren, dang'rous ledge 

Climbed he carefully 
Till he reached the earth shelf's edge; 

Gently, tenderly, 

"Plucked the treasure rare; and then 

Fondly kissed its face. 
All forgot his dangers, when 

Slipped his foothold brace. 

'■'Treasured flow'r and man as one 

Dashed to death below; 
And 'tis thought today by some 

Fate had willed it so." 

To himself talking the hunter 

In audible tones spake, but low: 
"Strange it is that I have carried 

This paper where'er I might go, 
Reading in lodge or in wigwam 

Or mission, by night and by day, 
Often this wedding announcement, 

Yet never this beautiful lay 
Noticed." In silence he sat there. 

His thoughts by the New England shore, 
Where he had learned that a grave-stone 

The name of the lost one then bore. 

VI. 

Was that a crying or pleading 
Voice wafted upon the still air 

From the cornfields by the river? 
Joe, listening, noted despair 



62 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

In the wild tones of the speaker. 

At once, Joe's deep reverie broke; 
Grasped he the flint-lock beside him; 

At hearing each dull, dead'ning stroke 
As of the butt of a musket 

Upon a defenseless man's head. 
Into the cornfield the hunter 

Made haste and found Glikkikan dead — 
Dead, with the warm blood still oozing 

From wounds whence the scalp had been 
torn 
By the white men fast retreating 

And hiding themselves in the corn. 
Turning the warm, lifeless body, 

The hunter felt for the heart beat. 
This was in vain. His eyes rising 

Did those of a white stranger meet. 
Choking with sorrow the preacher 

In faltering accents then told 
That a large army was present 

The Indians all to enfold 
Captives, and hold as war pris'ners 

And keep them by martial law force. 
Listened the hunter in silence 

While viewing his friend's mangled 
corse. 
As the sunbeams of a morning 

Expel from each crevice and nook 
Shades of the night, so the statements 

The preacher made, and his sad look, 
Brought to the mind of the hunter 

A sense of the sorrowful fate 



THE MASSACRE 63 

Planned for the sojourning converts: 
He heard all, but learned it too late. 

VII. 
From the dead man and young preacher 

The hunter a hasty retreat 
To his two hunter companions, 

Through cornfield and o'er heather, beat. 
Bringing together his comrades, 

Joe told of the murder just done, 
While the two other men listened 

In silence. Then speaking, each one 
Urged that alarm should be given 

The three bands out gathering grain. 
Christians at towns, Gnadenhutten 

And Salem, the late informed twain 
Volunteered warning of danger 

To carry in detail with speed. 
Likewise the workers at Schoenbrunn 

To w^arn, Joe, the hunter, agreed. 
Fleet as a deer Joe, the hunter, 

To those near the "Beautiful Spring" 
Hastened the bad news to carry. 

As frightened birds take to the wing. 
So from the cornfields at Schoenbrunn 

The Christians alarmed did depart. 
Favored by Lourell's bright presence. 

Though sad was the maiden at heart. 
On through the day pressed they westward, 

With pack-horses laden with grain; 
On from the murder by white men; 

And on toward Sanduskan Plain. 



6i LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

VIII. 

Meanwhile the other two hunters 

Had tried, but had failed to alarm 
Friends at the other two Missions, 

Who, feeling themselves free from harm 
Coming from hands of the white men, 

Gave ear to the peace and the joy 
Said to be waiting at Fort Pitt. 

Allurements to aid the decoy 
Williamson's men used so deftly 

That willingly each peaceful man 
Gave up his arms and surrendered. 

And plans for removal began. 
Williamson's men with true ardor. 

The wicked plot further to plan, 
Spake, in words sounding of friendship, 

That, back where the Ohio ran. 
Christian friends lovingly waited 

To give the "Brown Brethren" a home 
Under old Fort Pitt's protection 

Where Briton nor Warrior dared roam. 

Thus by the white men were gathered 
The bands of the two Mission towns 

Near to the one, Gnadenhutten, 

Where, mingled with smiles and with 
frowns. 

Spake to the captives, the captors: 
"The guise of our friendship and love 



THE MASSACRE 65 

Now we must lift, and inform you 

Your lives are the aim of this move. 
Pris'ners of war we now hold you, 

And death, without hope of reprieve, — 
Death to you all is the sentence; 

This only our aim will achieve. 
Spies, lurking here for the English, 

Are you in the gUise of a faith 
Teaching of life everlasting, 

Prepare you, at once, to meet death!" 

As, when the guests are assembled 

In parlors with colors adorned, 
Mingled with roses and lilies 

And blossoms of orange dethorned, 
And to the marital altar 

The pastor steps, sacred of stride, 
Joyously anticipating 

Approach of the bridegroom and bride; 
Shrieks of the bridemaids, excited, 

Are heard in the chambers above, 
Causing some neighborly matrons 

With noiseless steps, hast'ly to move; 
Speechless, pale, dazed and in wonder 

Stand pastor, guests, parents and all: 
So stood the converts at hearing 

The fate that to them was to fall. 



66 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 



Agnes, a maiden of culture 

From college years spent in the East, 
Spake to the captors in English 

From Williamson down to the least 
Youthful adventu'er among them. 

On bended knees, pleading the cause 
Not of herself, but the others. 

She quoted from Biblical laws. 
All of her efforts were fruitless; 

For Williamson, answering, spoke, 
"Death to you all was decided 

In camp by a yea and nay vote." 
Jacob then spake to the Colonel: 

"All arms you have captured and hold 
Bound are our men, while the women 

And children 3^our pickets enfold: 
Grant us, as submissive captives. 

Delay of the sentence till morn. 
That we for wrongs make atonement 

And none die in sin and forlorn." 
Bravely the hopeful, sad preacher 

To Williamson's side nobly came, 
Earnestly urging the respite 

Be granted in God's holy name. 
Though from the captors loud murmurs 

And fierce imprecations arose, 
Williamson granted the respite. 

Then went to his tent to repose. 



THE MASSACRE 67 



IX. 



Throughout the night the young preacher 

Exhorted and told of the faitli 
He had in life everlasting, 

Awaiting the spirit at death. 
Jacob, his hands tied behind him. 

Assisted in each Christian move 
Made by the preacher preparing 

The Indian souls for above. 

Sobbings and prayers of contrition, 

' As passed the fleet hours of the night, 

Were by brave anthems of praises 

Succeeded ere coming of light. 
From their high places in heaven. 

It seemed that the stars on that night 
Kept their lone vigils in silence, 

And wept when the first beams of light 
Shot through the boughs of the forest 

And melted the frost from each spray, 
Ere the dark deed was enacted 

The morn of that early spring day. 
At the sunrise boldly questioned 

A guard, "Are you ready to die?" 
"We are prepared now for Heaven!" 

The captives made solemn reply. 



68 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 



"How nicely this tool will answer 

Our purpose," a strong captor said. 
Grasping a cooper's large mallet. 

And raining upon each bare head 
Blows of an uncertain number 

Till more than a dozen were dead. 
Then spake that murderous demon, 

Today without historic name, 
"I have done well; my arm fails me; 

With this mallet do ye the same 
Till they are all beyond watching." 

He handed the blood-dripping tool 
To other willing hands waiting 

To finish the murder in cool 
Determination and anger. 

Thus women and children met death. 
Kneeling together and praying 

To God with the last fleeting breath. 
From the low heads of the victims 

The white captors, thirsting for gore 
And for the barbarous trophies, 

The scalps in true savage style tore. 
Next to the men in a coop'rage 

The band made its murderous way, 
Crazed and inflamed in their efl'orts 

Each Indian Christian to slay. 



THE MASSACRE 69 



True there were captors, whose bosoms 

Still harbored a sympathy, there. 
Moved by the anthems of praises 

And touched by the presence of prayer. 
They, from their murderous comrades 

Before the foul deeds had begun, 
Wandered away to the river. 

Though each of them carried a gun. 
So, when a cousin to Jacob, 

A young Christian, Henry by name. 
Fleeing by chance from the slaughter 

And hoping his freedom to gain, 
Swam 'cross the wide Tuscarawas 

And clambered upon the west bank, 
Down to his death from a bullet 

By one of them shot, there he sank. 

On the floor, blood-stained and grimy, 

'Mid shades of the cooperage stock, 
Jacob had knelt and was praying 

When, through his whole being, a shock 
Rendered him limp and unconscious: 

The strength of the arm was near spent, 
So that the blow was not fatal. 

His scalp, the last one that was rent, 
Made for the victors one hundred. 

The victims once scalped, came a pause. 
After the lull, bleeding trophies 

Became 'mong the victors a cause 



70 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

First of much parley, then anger. 
Then bitter words followed by fight. 

So that division of scalp-locks 

Was not made till falling of night. 

As darkness fell in the valley, 

The cowardly conscience-doomed men 
Trembled to think of their actions. 

It seemed that each echoing glen 
Sang back the anthems of triumph, 

The death prayer, the stifled farewell; 
So that a longer remaining 

Was much like a saint's dream of hell. 
"Haste!" was the last order given 

By Williamson, which was obeyed 
Eagerly, for the return had 

Unpleasantly been too delayed. 
Pack-horses, laden with plunder 

And tied to each other in file. 
Wailed the start of the leader, 

And nervously pawed the earth, while 
Men hastened hither and thither. 

Preparing at once to return. 
When 'twas suggested by some one 

The buildings and corpses should burn. 

When a deep darkness had fallen, 
The buildings where dead women lay, 

Burning at hands of the white men. 
Turned darkness of night into day. 



THE MASSACRE 71 



XL 



Back from unconsciousness Jacob 

At intervals rallied, till he 
Partly recovered his senses, 

And planned on a way to get free. 
Knew he a trap-door was near by. 

So, noiselessly, there did he crawl. 
This did he, though two strong white men 

Were guarding the dead in the hall. 
Weak though he was, to the cellar 

He lowered his body to find 
Two Indian young men companions. 

Though one from a blow was stone-blind. 
Bloody from wounds and from drippings 

That came through the cracks in the 
floor. 
Planned the three men a departure 

In haste from a scene of such gore. 
Out through a small, secret op'ning 

Known only to Jacob they sped, — 
He and the blinded companion; 

The other, a corpulent lad, 
Wedged in the dark, narrow window. 

And died in the flames that consumed, 
In a sliort time, both the buildings 

And earthly remains of the doomed. 



72 LOURELL, THE .INDIAN MAID 

XII. 

Still were the flames leaping upward 

When "Homeward march! Ho, Home- 
ward all!" 
Rang a command from some coward, 

But ev'ryone answered the call. 
Into the deep, hanging darkness. 

Frontier-man, militia-man, scout, 
Plunged toward their homes on the frontier. 

With discipline like to a rout. 
Thus, ere the hour of the midnight. 

The buildings in ashes were laid; 
And, though the sun beamed at morning, 

The fogs and the deep forest shade. 
Aided by prejudice local, 

A veil o'er the bloody deed flung. 
Leaving the glories of scalping 

And names of the scalpers unsung. 



JVift'". 3.«B,v 




% 




IN 

^ AMOWAS - 
•^^EiifiVTMc 1N0IANJ 
N^H'SVALLCY. 
t.NE 11.1782. 



ky.icrio 



AOC, :i,i877, ,;: 



In Crawford Township, Wyandot County, near Upper 
Sandusky, Ohio 



PART THE THIRD 



THE EXILE 



THE EXILE 75 

I. 

Of sundry monuments that stand 

Upon Ohio's breast, 
Commemorating deeds and lives 

Of men, there's one, not least 
Among them all, upon the bank 

Of stream Big Tymochtee, 
Near where a brave man gave his all 

In cause of Liberty. 
'Tis Colonel William Crawford's life 

And tragic death that give 
That monument an honored place, 

And make his mem'ry live. 

II. 
Down in the Old Dominion State, 

The year that Nature gave 
The baby Washington to life, 

A country's cause to save. 
This William Crawford took a name 

And learned to nurse the breast 
Of brave a mother as e'er bore 

A hero for the West. 
When seventeen, George Washington 

For wealthy Lord Fairfax 
To north Virginia's border went 

Extensive landed tracts 
To locate, measure and survey. 

While thus engaged he met 
Young Crawford, and the friendship 
formed. 



76 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

The Nation fully yet 
Has failed to recognize as one 

Of many goodly pow'rs 
That wrought, in changing early days. 

To free this land of ours. 

In frontier warfare Crawford learned 

To conquer, to subdue, 
To make each savage chieftain glad 

His cause in peace to sue. 
As French and Indian Wars prolonged 

Till Fort Duquesne must fall. 
Or British and Colonial cause 

Would fail, the Country's call 
For volunteers he answered with 

A company of men 
From north Virginia's humble homes, — 

Brave men from hill and glen. 

In years of peace, by Braddock's Road, 

Crawford and winsome wife 
Their children reared, and entertained 

From highest walks of life 
Their guests. Our Country's liberty 

From Britain to obtain. 
The old sword hanging on the wall 

Brave Crawford grasped again. 
In fogs o'erhanging Long Island, 

In Washington's retreat. 
In boats that crossed the Delaware, 

In Princetown's frozen street, 



THE EXILE 77 

In camps around *'01d Quaker Town," 

In fight at Brandy wine, 
He and his soldiers did their part 

In bloody battle line. 

Then Congress asked of Washington 

That Colonel Crawford, brave. 
Be sent to western duties where 

He might the frontier save. 
At Fort Pitt stationed, Crawford then 

Against Fort Detroit planned. 
And by the Tuscarawas built 

Fort Laurens to command 
The bold Ohio Indians. 

He well and truly knew 
That Detroit and Sandusky towns 

Were each a rendezvous 
Where British cunning held a sway 

O'er savage, simple life. 
And *gainst the Colonists maintained 

A telling, bloody strife. 

But while the frontier seemed to war 

Against the hand of fate, 
The light of Freedom in the east 

In brilliancy did break. 
Cornwallis with an army proud 

In fields around Yorktown 
Surrendered to the Stars and Stripes 

A sword of Britain's own. 



78 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

Then at his Youghiogeny home 

From soldier life retired, 
Plis tales of warfare Crawford told 

And youthful hearts oft fired. 

III. 

Throughout the winter, in their homes 

Along the wild frontier 
The lonely parents boldly sang 

And 'round their hearths made cheer; 
But as the spring came back again, 

And flow'rs began to bloom, 
The hardy settlers all desired 

The Red Man meet his doom. 
In hope to quell their children's fears, 

They told of vict'ry won. 
As shown by scalps brought home to dry 

By men with Williamson. 
They talked of war; they sang of war; 

For war's success they prayed; 
Till naught but warlike discipline 

An expedition stayed. 

IV. 

At Mingo Bottoms once again. 

As chosen rendezvous, 
Nearly five hundred soldiers met 

With nerve and heart to do. 
This band was not a heedless gang; 

'Twas soldiers volunteered, 
Whose names upon the muster roll 

At old Fort Pitt appeared. 



THE EXILE 79 

Yet, with the men the right remained 

A leader to select 
To guide the expedition west, 

Its movements to direct. 
An early May day's morning sun 

Shone on the soldiers while 
They answered roll, and cast their votes 

In democratic style. 
Election over, speedy clerks 

The ballots counted, and 
Announced that William Crawford had 

Been chosen to command. 
To Crawford's Youghiogeny home 

A messenger with speed 
Was sent, horseback, result to tell. 

And speak the urgent need 
Of his foregoing joys of peace 

To lead the army out 
To conquer all the savage tribes, 

And put their pow'rs to rout. 
The Colonel heard the message; then 

Around the fam'ly board 
Those near and dear to him were called 

To hear the soldier's word: 
"My nephews and my son-in-law. 

Together with my son. 
Have volunteered and joined the force; 

I cannot leave forlorn 
The work that will a blessing be 

To living and unborn. 



80 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

The notary with massive seal, 

Ink horn and goose quill pen 
The next day wrote the testament 

And will of Crawford. Then 
He kissed his children's children and 

His children and his wife, 
/Vnd, buckling on the sword again, 

He left to join the strife 
Against the Northwest enemy. 

V. 

Late May day's morn broke full, 
As forth from Mingo Bottoms moved 

The army toward the dull 
And seeming endless forests green. 

Which, swaying, seemed to sing 
Of war's cessation and the joys 

That peace alone could bring. 
By Crawford Colonel Williamson 

Rode, second in command, 
While Doctor Knight, with medicine 

And instruments at hand, 
Was army surgeon. Trusted men 

Who knew the forest ways 
The army guided westward, till 

It had marched four full days. 
Then by the Tuscarawas' stream 

The army went in camp; 
In vacant houses at Schoenbrunn 

They slept. The chilly damp 



THE EXILE 81 

Of foggy air, and forest sounds . 

Of weird and varied kinds, 
Brought hideous dreams and visions to 

The sleeping soldiers' minds. 

At length the camp woke as one man: 

In all the darkness 'round 
Reverberated far and wide 

A wild, prophetic sound 
Of death, disaster and disgrace. 

And long before the dawn 
Each soldier to his saddle sprang 

And from the camp was gone. 
For, careful though the army moved, 

The Indian runners knew 
The army's strength in horse and man; 

And, though their numbers few. 
Had hoped, by wild, nocturnal yells 

Around the camp Schoenbrunn, 
To scare the pale-faced army so 

'Twould homeward make return. 
Then fleet of foot and quick of thought, 

By straight and secret track, 
Those runners to the British camp 

Their knowledge carried back; 
And warned each Briton and the hosts 

Of savage warriors, too. 
Along the river, Sandusky; 1 

And, in a friendship true. 



82 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

At "Captives' Town" a messenger 

To Zeisberger did tell: 
"Another army from the East, 

With purposes most fell, 
Is marching toward these humble homes 

To rob and kill as well." 

Within the hut a wasted form 

Of Indian young manhood, 
•^tih scalpless head and glassy eye, 

At once defiant stood. 
The wound upon his manly head 

Externally had healed; 
But on his brain a blood-clot lay. 

So, when he walked he reeled. 
And when he talked, those listening 

Could note from what he said 
That from the noble Jacob had 

His former reason fled. 
Two months before, with one lone friend 

From Gnadenhutten town. 
The scalped and wasted Jacob came 

To lay his body down 
Upon a bed of sickness. Though 

Now bodily improved. 
His reason had not been restored, 

His mind incessant roved. 
Through lonely days and dreary nights 

Beside his sick bed stayed 
The pious Missionary or 

Lourell, the Indian maid. 



THE EXILE 83 

The messenger, his task performed, 

A low obeisance made 
And left the hut; when Zeisberger 

Turned to the weeping maid 
And spake some helpful, hopeful words. 

She list'ning, raised her head. 
And neither Jacob's form could see; 

Unnoticed he had fled. 

VI. 

As May days passed and June days came 

The warriors near and far 
Around Sandusky towns encamped. 

In arms and paint of war. 
The Delawares with Captain Pipe 

And noted Wingenund 
And Simon Girty as an aid 

Were jRrst upon the ground; 
And Wyandottes in numbers came; 

Their chieftain, Zhaus-sho-toh, 
Received from Captain Elliott 

Instructions where to go. 
White soldiers from Old Fort Detroit, 

Of comp'nies three or four. 
And Shawnees and Lake Indians 

Into the camp did pour; 
But Captain William Caldwell, with 

Directions from the Crown, 
Commanded all the army, and 

Removed from "Captives' Town" 



84 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

The Christian Indians westward, ere 

The Crawford army came 
To wage the fight destined to give 

To history its name. 

VII. 

Meanwhile the Crawford army moved, 

Till by Sandusky's stream 
The silent sentry walked his beat 

And bivouac fires did gleam 
Throughout the night of June the third. 

As morning broke anew 
Nearly five hundred mounted men 

Pressed westward through the dew. 
At noon the "Captives' Town" was reached. 

But not a human form 
Was seen; all had moved westward to 

Avoid the gath'ring storm. 
Spurred on by this the army cheered 

And forward marched with vim, 
The fleeing enemy to catch 

And one more vict'ry win. 
On by the town deserted moved 

The army toward the west. 
While hope of certain victory 

Swelled in each soldier's breast. 
Alas! How oft an omen bears 

Two meanings, and we take 
The better one to lose our all, 

And then see the mistake. 



THE EXILE 85 

The June-day sun short shadows cast 

From each, brave, mounted man, 
When scouts, returning, told unto 

The army's eager van 
That just beyond a wooded grove. 

In numbers yet unknown, 
The enemy was hiding in 

The grass that there had grown. 
Unto the ears of Crawford brave, 

Tlie news was welcome, sweet : 
He'd gain the elevated grove. 

And there the foe would meet. 
He ordered that each man dismount 

And form in battle line, 
And occupy the vantage ground; 

But, by a secret sign 
From a lone Indian in a tree. 

The other army knew 
What Crawford did; and warriors bold 

Toward the grove then drew. 

Fierce was the fight— for brave men 
fought — 

Throughout that afternoon. 
Till evening's twilight caused a pause. 

The early rising moon 
Revealed the skulking, savage men 

And British soldiers red. 
Retreating westward, carrying 

Their wounded and their dead. 



86 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

VIII. 

The hours passed by, and silence seemed 

In both the camps to reign. 
But just a few miles westward lay 

Unsheltered on the plain, 
The Christian children, women, men 

And Missionaries, all 
Forced from their humble "Captives' Town" 

In fear that might befall 
To them the fate their kinsfolk met 

By Tuscarawas' stream; 
When scalp-knives, by the white men used, 

With Christian blood did gleam. 

Late was the hour ere Lourell slept 

To dream that by the side 
Of Jacob hopefully she stood 

A happy, joyous bride; 
Made so by God and church and deed, 

Before a friendly crowd. 
Who, in the dream, good wishes voiced. 

And hopes for joy avowed. 
She dreamed and slept and did not know 

That in the savage camp 
By her own lover Jacob, dazed 

And scalped, through dewy damp. 
From lodge to lodge, from tent to tent, 

Throughout the calm June night, 



THE EXILE 87 

Were carried to each company 

Directions for the fight. 
An hour before the breaking dawn 

Rose o'er the eastern plain 
The British and the savage, too, 

Eager the fight to gain. 
Partook of soldiers' fare and stood 

All ready for the fight 
That soon began and lasted till 

The falling of the night. 
That night was not a night of rest 

In either army's camp. 
For early Crawford's scouts could hear 

The almost silent tramp 
Of reinforcements, numberless; 

A counsel then of war 
Did Crawford hold, deciding that 

Retreat was better far 
Than battle w^hen outnumbered so; 

And, in the shades of night, 
His army started homeward in 

A swift but cautious flight. 

IX. 

With actions like an insane man, 

The scalpless Jacob drew 
Around him savage chieftains and 

Of British captains few. 
And spake: "The murd'ring Colonists, 

In arms upon our soil. 



88 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAIt) 

Are one to five compared with ours. 

To murder and despoil 
All Indians and property 

Has brought this army forth; 
They seek to kill in battle pitched 

The Indians of the North. 
From where Atlantic's ceaseless tide 

Beats crag and rock and sand, 
From north to south, to westward here, 

Was once our fathers' land. 
The Paleface reads of God in books. 

And thereby learns to roam; 
The Red Man sees his Manitou 

In nature 'round his home. 
When first the Paleface reached our shore. 

Our fathers welcome gave. 
But now no warrior dares return 

To see his father's grave. 
Our Manitou of War still lives, 

Behold him in the trees ! 
He sees us through the sun and moon; 

He whispers in the breeze. 
Through rum and broken treaties we 

Have parted with our land; 
To drive the white man in the sea 

Is Manitou's command. 
The pale-faced soldiers cowards are; 

They steal away at night; 
Lead on our braves to battle now. 

For Manitou and Right." 



THiB exile; 8^ 



The speaker fell exhausted then, 

And by the pale starlight 
'Twas seen the Crawford soldiers had 

Begun a careful flight 
From battlefield toward their homes. 

With Indian arrow, knife, 
With Briton*s gun, the fight renewed. 

When ended was the strife 
The army of the Colonies 

Was routed in defeat, 
With soldiers scalped, with officers 

The prisoners' fate to meet 
At savage hands of favored tribes. 

Each warrior's heart beat high 
When it was learned that Crawford had 

Been captured, and must die 
In manner fitting to atone 

For wrongs and murders done 
By white men to the Indians 

On plains near old Schoenbrunn. 



Brave Crawford, through a fagging horse. 

While calling for his son, 
Fell captive, as did Doctor Knight, 

Though everything was done 
By them to guide in the retreat 

The army safely on. 



90 LOURELL, TH^^INDIAN MAlb 

X. 

Three days a captive Crawford was, 

Then stripped of clothes was he 
And, painted black, was led into 

The vale of Tymochtee. 
Tied to a stake, placed in the ground, 

With near twelve feet of rope. 
With twig and branch around it strewn, 

He gave up ling'ring hope 
That something somewhere might arise 

To save the dreadful fate 
Of being roasted while alive 

And burned to death at stake. 

With powder then the savage shot 

And burned his naked skin, 
Each demon adding to his wound 

A savage, hellish grin. 
Yet all the while the fagots burned. 

The heat grew more intense. 
Against such painful punishment 

He could find no defense. 
With fading hope he called aloud 

To Simon Girty near, 
"Oh shoot me dead without delay!" 

W^hen Girt}^ with a sneer 
Retorted: "I no gun possess; 

But, if I did, you know 
The way these savage put to death 

Is painful, sure, but slow!" 
The hours passed by and Crawford sank 

His head upon his lap. 



THE EXILE ^1 

A yelling, painted savage, then 

Removed the soldier's scalp; 
And by a squaw some burning coals 

From oft* a piece of board 
Upon the Colonel's bleeding head 

In ecstasy were poured. 

A chief, approaching Doctor Knight, 

Bade him arise and walk. 
He did while all the air around 

Was filled with song and talk. 
Next morning Doctor Knight was marched 

Beside the awful spot. 
And saw the bones of Crawford lie 

Still reeking, charred and hot. 
XI. 
That night Zeisberger in his hut 

Sat silently and long. 
And, musing over Life's events. 

Recalled a childhood song: 



MY SAILING 

"The winds blow from over the rolling sea 

A message of joy or of grief to me, 
According as hues of the bending skies, 
Rellccls my soul-gladness or tear-dimmed eyes; 
For tender smiles beam from the thoughts within. 
And frowns and their tears in the soul begin, 
As winds blow from over the sea. 



92 LOURELU THE INDIAN MAID 

"The ships come from over the deep, blue sea, 
And bring their effulgent, rare gifts to me; 
And fruits of the nether world at my feet 
They lay, where the land and the water meet; 
Though for neither gifts nor for fruits I care, 
As ships proudly come in from ev'rywhere, — 
Still ships come from over the sea. 

"The stars twinkle down in the dark, gray sea. 

Reflecting their images back to me, 

Which shimmer and shine on each wavelet's 

breast, 
Then pass out of sight on the wave's dark crest, 
To glimmer, it may be, again: but still 
The stars twinkle down with their own fre« 

will,— 

The stars twinkle down in the sea. 

"Are we but mere flotsam on Life's great sea, 
Unguided by Fate, fdled with enmity 
Unsatiate ? No, there is living Hope 
For all drifting ones who in darkness grope: 
We may glide through calms, and we must baffle 

waves, 
According as Hope or as Fate behaves, 

For storms must be met on Life's sea." 



XII. 

That night the army surgeon lay. 
Bound hand and foot, and sore. 

Beside a smold'ring campfire, and 
Each moment guarded o'er 



THE EXILE 93 

By special chieftain from the tribe 

To burn him at the stake, 
And of the army sm'geon's scalp 

A battle trophy make. 

Some days and nights they journeyed on. 

While ever near the twain 
Was Joe, the hunter, following, 

A rescue to obtain. 
One dreary night the chieftain slept. 

Lounging upon the ground; 
And Joe, the hunter, slyly crept 

And Doctor Knight unbound. 
The Surgeon stretched his aching limbs 

And grasped the chieftain's gun; 
But, keen of ear, the Indian woke; 

Both started on the run. 
Then came a fight. The chieftain fell; 

But still 'twas one sad plight; 
The gun was broken from the blow 

That ended the death fight. 
The lone horse mounted. Knight then bade 

A long farewell to Joe. 
Where Joe thereafter lived and died 

No one did ever know. 

The horse and man at once began 

A journey, danger fraught: 
One careless step, hope of escape. 

Would quickly bring to naught. 



94 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

In dark swamps sleeping through the day, 
And trav'ling through the night, 

A fortnight brouglit tlie Surgeon to 
Fort Pitt in sorry plight. 

Sad was the scene, when, strength regained, 

He entered Crawford's home 
And told the widow, children and 

The friends that had there come 
The awful story of what fate. 

At cruel, savage hands. 
Befell their loved and honored one 

In far-off western lands. 



PART THE FOURTH 



THE RETURN 



THE RETURN 97 

I. 

Through the years the Tuscarawas 

Mirrored sun and moon and star, 
And the broad, alluvial lowlands 

Stretched to rolling hills afar; 
Yet no civil hand the forests 

Felled in hope to build a home; 
Hunters camped where night o'ertook them; 

And wild beasts at will did roam. 

Where the corn had grown in plenty. 

Where the orchards had borne fruit. 
Where the flow'rs had bloomed in gardens, 

All grew wild; each native brute 
Could, unscared and unmolested. 

Roam at will 'mong brier and thorn, 
Sleep by day and prowl at evening. 

Scream by night and feed at morn. 

For all creatures using language 

Long and oft had heard the tale 
That the ghosts of harmless Christians, 

Foully murdered in the vale. 
Oft returned at hours uncertain, 

And in mad, nocturnal tones 
Cried: "Oh, Manitou, give vengeance! 

Oh, avenge our bleaching bones!" 
Through the years the sleepless echoes 

Of the valley nothing heard. 
Save the thunder and the wild wind, 

Cry of beast and scream of bird. 



98 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

II. 

All the while the missionaries 
Shepherded the Christian band 

In far northern fields and forests, 
On unfriendly natives' land. 

III. 

On a summer Sabbath morning, 

In the Michigan wild land, 
To a humble, spacious chapel, 

Heeding Zeisberger's command. 
All the Christians of the village, 
1 Helpers, converts, white or brown, 
Came to hear a proclamation 

Deemed most vital for the town. 
Christian fathers, mothers, children. 

Wearied of the war-time strain. 
Helpers, led by LourelPs presence. 

Filled the church to hear again 
From the lips of loved Zeisberger 

Whether were their efforts vain. 

Twas their wont, and so a half hour 

Passed in silent, earnest prayer. 
During which Zeisberger kneeled by 

His accustomed pulpit chair. 
Then, as though the choirs of heaven 

Loaned sweet tongues and pow'rs of song. 
Rang an anthem to the Godhead, 

Man's Redeemer, loud and long. 



THE RETURN 99 

At cessation of the singing 

Quiet was the church as death, 
Broken only when Zeisberger 

Drew a deep, sonorous breath. 
And, behind the sacred altar 

Taking his familiar stand. 
Asked God's blessing on the converts. 

With extended arm and hand. 
Then he spake : "For years, my brethren. 

We have prospered, flourished here. 
At the will of Chippewas, we. 

When once hunted like a deer, 
Builded here these homes and chapel. 

Now the nations are at peace. 
And the Chippewas are anxious 

Of their land we make release. 
Of our wrongs the States United 

Through their Congress are informed. 
And by legal act our hopes are 

Brilliant made, and are adorned 
With new promise for the future; — 

Yes, methinks that soon again 
We shall worship and live happy 

Back on our beloved plain. 

"Let us not our landlords weary, 
Neither grieve our neighbors sore ; 

Let us start with high ambition 
Back to Tuscarawas' shore. 



100 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

Two large sloops upon the river 

Lay at anchor, waiting for 
Contract of a river voyage 

And to Erie's southern shore." 

Longer still he talked and reasoned, 

Till the converts' hopes grew strong 
That, along the Tuscarawas, 

They might praise their God in song 
Without fears of molestation. 

Then the pious preacher told 
From the Holy Writ the story 

How the Israelites of old 
Were by God's command delivered 

From Egyptian bondage, and 
Journeyed under His direction 

Toward the fair and promised land. 

Ere the darkness fell that evening. 

To removal all agreed; 
And the Chippewas, delighted, 

Feeling keen the Christians' need 
Of much help in the withdrawal. 

Furnished many helpers strong, 
Who, in stoic, savage manner. 

Mingled chants with Christian song, 
While completing embarkation 

Of the Christians and their store 
On the sloops then moored and lying 

By the Detroit River's shore. 



THE RETURN 101 

IV. 

Israel crossed, dry-shod, the Red Sea, 

But a more seafaring fate 
Waited for the meek Moravians 

On the stormy, dashing lake. 
Rocked by waves, by wild winds driven, 

Through long days and nights of fear. 
Storm tossed oft, they sailed and sailed on, 

Till a haven did appear. 
Glad to land, the pilgrims entered 

Cuyahoga River, where 
Builded they a few small houses, 

And remained a season there. 
But erelong a delegation 

Of the owners of the land 
Called upon the Missionaries; 

And, though met with friendly hand. 
Forthwith spake the leading chieftain: 

*'You now dwell upon our soil; 
We are hunters, braves and warriors; 

Only women work and toil. 
Therefore, by your way of living 

All our laws you disobey; 
You must leave our territory. 

Leave it by the seventh day." 

Once again upon Lake Erie, 

As a highway free to all, 
'Barked the homeless Christians, hopeful 

Better fate might yet befall; 



102 LOURELL. THE INDIAN MAID 



That somewhere in field or forest 

Miglit be found a peaceful home, 
Where no landlords should be troubled, 

Where would rise no cause to roam. 
So the waters of Lake Erie 

Bore again the pilgrim fleet 
Westward, till Black Biver's current 

Did the prows of their boats meet. 
There they landed; there they builded 

Near the lake and river's shore; 
There the preachers preached, and teachers 

Taught the lessons o'er and o'er 
Of the sufferings attending 

Chosen lives of Bible lore. 

As the moonlight fell in beauty 

One still night upon the lake, 
'Neath the boughs of trees o'erhanging 

The lake's bank, did Lourell take 
Her lone place for supplication. 

As she nightly long had done. 
There she prayed for Heathen, Christian, — 

Yes, she prayed for her loved one; 
For, somehow within the bosom 

Of the maiden lingered e'er 
Hope that her own lover Jacob 

Liveth still on earth, somewhere. 



THE RETURN 103 

But from force the homeless Christians 

Once again their earthly ware 
Loaded in canoes and started 

Westward to — they knew not where. 
But in time the Huron Biver 

Offered haven; 'twas deemed best 
To sail up that river, searching 

For a place of needed rest. 
There some humble homes were builded 

And a chapel rude, not tall; 
There the pilgrims worked and worshiped, 

Faithful, though in numbers small. 
V. 
Meanwhile had the new born Nation 

Grown in wisdom, power and good, 
And, through Congress, it had granted. 

Measured out by rod and rood. 
Full twelve thousand fertile acres 

By the Tuscarawas' stream. 
To Moravian Missionaries 

And their Indians. Thus the dream 
Uppermost to worn Zeisberger 

Seemed realit}^ once more; 
And the weary, hopeful Christians 

Turned to Tuscarawas' shore. 

Near the west bank of the river. 

On the Goshen gravel plain, 
Builded they another village, 

Builded they a church again. 



104 LOURELL, THE{INDIAN MAID 

Swiftly sped a few years, happy, 
Spent in worship, work and song, 

And the Right as taught and practiced 
Seemed to overcome the Wrong. 

VI. 

But an era was approaching, 
One of progress, one of might; 

And the Indian, though Christian, 
Bowed before the conq'ring White. 

Heckewelder to the faithful 

Bade adieu, and journeyed east; 
For the most of all the leaders 

Had retired to final rest. 
So the waning little Mission 

By the Tuscarawas' shore 
Rang wath praises of Almighty 

Just a few short seasons more; 
But its people still were hopeful, 

Till the years in ceaseless roll 
Bore upon Zeisberger's body 

And demanded Time's last toll. 

VII. 

One calm evening in November, 

One thousand, eight hundred-eight, 

In a small and neat apartment, 
Zeisberger resigned his fate; 



THE RETURN lp5 



And in feeble accents uttered. 

As the shades of evening fell. 
His departing earthly message 

To the faithful one, Lourell. 

MY ANCHORING 
*"Tis eve, and winds of day are stilled again; 
The purple sunset skies embrace the calm; 
My bark, oft tossed on life's swift dashing main, 
At anchor rides, so near to home I am. 
I see the beacon light 
Shine through the breaking night, 
And mark my path o'er life's receding tide. 
Though haze and cloud and fog 
My mortal vision clog. 
Still Hope is captain; I my time abide. 

"I've loved the waves and foam and breakers, 

all,— 
The calm of noon, the stars' pale smile at night. 
The swelling rise, the undulating fall. 
When Wrong gives up the throne to Truth and 

Right, 
I see the beacon light; 
It shows all wrongs aright. 
I see my path o'er life's receding tide. 
My soul, no longer fast, 
Ascends the topmost mast. 
For Faith is pilot; Death is but a guide." 

He was buried there at Goshen, 

'Mong "Brown Brethren" gone before, 

And beside the grave of Edwards, 
And of loved ones, many more. 



106 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

When his body had been lowered 

To its final resting place, 
Toar-dimmed eyes of Lourell noticed 

Haggard, yet familiar face. 
When the grave was rounded smoothly, 

And the body left to sleep 
In the earth of the lone valley. 

Near the river's silent sweep, 
Once again her eyes did Lourell 

Raise to look the people o'er. 
And beheld her long lost lover 

Jacob, w^eai-^^ and footsore. 

VIII. 

Then they met, the two true lovers, 

And each clasped the other's hand. 
And renewed the vows, unbroken. 

Made in Gnadenhutten land. 
But alas! That happy meeting 

Ended soon, for, from the west 
Came an early winter's flurry, 

Snow and rain and driving blast; 
So that, ere they reached a shelter. 

Wet and cold their garments w^ere, 
And an illness, proving fatal, 

Grasped the tender form of her. 
By her sick bed Jacob calmly 

Sat, and told to willing ears 
Of Lourell all he remembered 

Of the intervening years, 



THE RETURN lOf 

Which to him as one night's sleeping 

Broken only now and then 
By uncertain, disconnected, 

And unpleasant dreams, had been. 
Just a fortnight past, he told her, 

That from patient nursing, care, 
He had been restored to reason. 

And awoke — he knew not where : 
But they told him 'twas Fort Detroit; 

Told him how the wars did cease; 
How surviving Christian converts 

Back near Schoenbrunn lived in peace. 
And he told her of his journey. 

Weak of body, to her bed. 
She, in turn, told him her sorrows. 

And that she oft thought him dead. 

Just a few days did she linger; 

Then she met a peaceful death. 
Speaking words of Christian solace 

With the last, faint, dying breath. 

Near the sacred grave, Zeisberger's, 

Was the body of Lourell 
Laid to rest by loving, tender 

Friends; and all could tell 
Of some kind and helpful duties 

Done by hands then cold and white, — 
Done without remuneration, 

Whether called by day or night. 



108 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 

Sad, indeed, were all the people, 
And the two late graves around 

Stood they long and wept together: — 
'Twas to them, then, hallowed ground. 



IX. 

Jacob lingered at the Mission 

Weak of body, sad of heart, 
SulFring thus a second sorrow 

For the one once set apart 
By the laws of love and nature 

To be his to journey life, 
As an ardent. Christian woman. 

As a loving, faithful wife. 
Day by day his strength kept failing, 

Till the coming Christmas-tide 
When he, in a faith triumphant. 

Praising God, rejoiced and died. 



